


I Don't Want To Talk About It

by Saoirse_Laochra



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, One Shot, mentions of past rape/non-con, mentions of torture, nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 23:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11263347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saoirse_Laochra/pseuds/Saoirse_Laochra
Summary: John lied; he did have a choice with Ontari. Just not the one Emori thought he had.Mentions of past rape/non-con, and torture. Nothing happens in the story, just the aftermath.*One-Shot*





	I Don't Want To Talk About It

He’s a survivor.

That’s all John Murphy has ever had. He wasn’t the smartest, the cutest, the bravest, the nicest, the hero… No.

He’s a cockroach; throw him into any situation, and he’ll finagle his way out.

And that worked well for Murphy for a lot of years. Lie, cheat, steal… _kill_. He’s not proud of the man he’s become, but at least he’s lived long enough to _become_ a man. Which was more than he expected when he was first thrown in Juvenile Lockup at fifteen. More than he expected when he was used as a lab rat for the Ark,  sent to Earth with nothing when he was sixteen.

So when Ontari first chained him, he thought, alright. _No problem_. He can grovel and beg with the best of them. His pride’s long gone anyways, floating up in the remains of the Ark somewhere anyways.

He could help her rise to power, even knowing that doing so is to ensure the death of the other Hundred. The rest of Skaikru. Not his problem, and getting dead wasn’t going to help them stay alive.

He had balked though, feeling the first wave of bile rising in his throat, when she’d stripped down, tugging that chain to her. He wasn’t sure why; wasn’t like his body was anything he –or anyone else –had ever held in particular regard. Between the Grounders torture back in the early days –twice, he feels the need to point out, although he never really told anybody about that, short as it was –and then Titus, and life on this fucking joke of a planet, he’s covered in scars. He’s pretty sure there isn’t a square inch of him that isn’t scarred.

But still –something about it.

So when Emori asks, what else wasn’t bad? He can feel his chest tighten. Feel the cave walls closing in on him.

_Can feel that damn collar around his neck, and Ontari tugging him closer._

He tells her he doesn’t want to talk about it. And she looks angry; at him, with him, or at the world, he’s not sure.

He can’t lose her, but he can’t talk about it either. Not now. Too raw.

She finally drops her stare with a huff, throwing another piece of wood on the fire.

And he’s gotta admit, it hurts. The only reason he’d tried holding out against Ontari was because of her.

“I didn’t have a choice,” He lies. Because he did have a choice. Not the one she thinks, but a choice none the less.

He could have gone along with it. Have a good time in the sack, cement his spot with Ontari… Or go unwillingly; tell her about Emori. Try and refuse her.

And he’d made the choice. One that still made him feel sick. One that he’d make again.

One that was gonna leave him with more scars on his soul.

But whatever. Not like it’s in pristine condition anyways.

What’s one more.


End file.
